


Natural

by withered



Series: House of Mine [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Werewolf Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Deputy Derek Hale, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, First Meeting, Found Family, Grocery Shopping, Jackson Whittemore is Part of the Pack, Kidfic, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Pack Dynamics, Single Parent Stiles Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski, The Hale Pack - Freeform, What can magic not do?, Witch Stiles Stilinski, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-07-09 10:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19886071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withered/pseuds/withered
Summary: Derek goes grocery shopping, and somehow walks out with a kid, a pack and a mate.





	1. Chapter 1

Derek doesn’t like people.

It’s the least surprising thing about him.

Which explains why he’s in the grocery store an hour before closing, and debating options for dinner tonight. 

He may have avoided the spectacle of the Change taking over unexpectedly, but being a transfer from New York had caused quite a buzz within the community, and any opportunity to avoid the general public when he isn’t on the clock, Derek will take, no matter how often the bag boy scowls at him.

It isn’t like its Derek’s fault – its been two months – if the gossip showed any sign of abating, Derek would get his groceries at a normal hour just like everyone else. As it is, apparently, no one ever _chooses_ to move to Beacon Hills.

Derek, personally, can’t imagine why.

The town is small enough that people are familiar but big enough that they don’t necessarily live in each other’s pockets. It won’t be long before the gossip _does_ die down, and the town will be practically perfect on top of the myriad of positives that had led Derek to choose it.

Not only is the territory unclaimed, and home to only Betas (changed and abandoned by a Rogue Alpha years ago), but there’s a Preserve that’s literally just outside his backdoor. 

Plus, the crime rate is so low, his biggest fear lies in whether Jackson Whittemore will be a dick to the wrong person and get his ass kicked, and Derek will have to pretend the guy doesn’t deserve it.

(Despite his Big Family Secret, Derek is a shitty liar, and he’d rather keep _that_ as deeply under wraps as the werewolf thing.)

The only thing that would really make Beacon Hills perfect is if he’d be able to start a Pack of his own which is…far from his mind, in all honesty, and more a wish his own Alpha-mother currently harbors.

It’s easy enough to suppress his own biological stake in the matter when Derek has had no desire for his forcibly obtained Alpha powers in the first place.

Fucking Ennis, he thinks, not for the first time with a sigh – more with annoyance now than with the anguish of when the kill had been fresh: When Derek had run so hot he wanted to tear his skin off in the hope of a reprieve all while he writhed helplessly, his nervous system lit up with invisible shocks and prods, awakening the Alpha gene in his DNA until it was turning every switch on his senses and tuning it up to a hundred.

That hadn’t been fun.

At least he’d managed to get a handle on his senses a few weeks after the Change, dulling them to Beta level consciousness. Now, he can be around people without choking on the cocktail of curiosity, arousal, and fear he still inspired from the townspeople of Beacon Hills.

(It’s only been two months, he tells himself, it’ll pass.)

Though, his forcible dulling of his senses does not explain how a kid manages to sneak up on him, claiming him with a squeal of “Ah!”

Derek’s so startled he drops the bag of pasta shells he was contemplating on and freezes entirely as the kid – who’s probably a toddler at most – momentarily lets go of his pants leg to pick up the dropped pasta shell packet. He shakes it for a moment, giggles, and then offers it back to him, looking up at Derek with the biggest brown eyes he’s ever seen on someone that wasn’t a cartoon character.

When Derek doesn't make a move to take it, the toddler cocks his head to the side, brows furrowing before he repeats, “Ah?”

“Uh…thank you,” he says, accepting the pasta reluctantly which the kid doesn’t seem to notice when he flashes Derek a bright gummy smile, a gesture Derek finds himself returning without thought to the kid’s approving squeal of delight.

This is immediately followed by the kid pulling at Derek’s hands, the universal prompting to be carried, and Derek can do nothing more than comply at the child’s persistence.

Derek only has a moment to regret picking the kid up when he outright nuzzles into him, chubby hands petting at his beard, all while rumbling low in a familiar subvocal hum of approval just like a wolf would -

Shouting shakes Derek from the horror slowly curdling in his belly, just long enough for a guy to come careening around the corner, his scent strangely blank even as his anxiety pitches to panic as he calls out, “Sirius – Christ, kid, where did you – _oh.”_

The kid, Sirius, Derek supposes, is willfully ignorant of his father’s shock, and Derek is just the unfortunate soul between them.

They sort of stare at each other for a moment, all while Sirius continues to pet and coo at Derek’s beard, and it’s all very awkward until Derek clears his throat and says, “I’m guessing he’s yours?”

“Uh…yeah, yeah he’s…uh.” Sirius’ father blinks a few times, apparently still processing the fact that some stranger is holding his child before he eventually shakes his head, as if that’ll dispel the weirdness of it.

Derek’s just glad he’s still wearing his deputy uniform because for the life of him, he can’t imagine a world where _anyone_ would be okay with their kid clamoring up to strange men in grocery stores at eight in the evening. And that’s not even speaking as a werewolf.

Nervously, though, the guy licks his lips and Derek has the distracting thought that his mouth is _obscene,_ which he’s startled out of thinking too deeply about (thank god) when Sirius continues to purr – increasing the volume as if it’ll encourage it from Derek’s chest too if he tries hard enough.

It turns out that that is a harder impulse to ignore than making a Pack.

“Uh, well, this is…surprising. Sirius doesn’t really like people,” the guy is saying, cheeks going apple candy red and Derek just wants to _bite into them_ and _what the fu_ \- before running his hand through the mess of his hair, making it worse, and bringing attention to his goddamn hands that Derek _kind of makes him want to pull t_ _hose long, distracting fingers into his mouth and_ – _what the fuck is happening?_ Derek thinks feeling more terrified by the second.

“I’m really sorry, dude,” he continues, unaware, rambling off, “I only took my eyes off him for a second, and he usually doesn’t run off – at least not too often and he certainly doesn’t run off to bother other people – which is frankly the opposite of his usual M.O so like -”

“It’s fine,” Derek clears his throat, hoping to god it doesn’t sound as rough as he thinks, and praying that he isn’t sporting a fucking chub in the middle of the grocery store while carrying an actual child in his arms. Fuck. Laura’s never going to let this go if she hears about this. “Uh, do you want him back?”

At that, the guy gives a helpless, sheepish sort of smile. “Actually, we just got here after a long drive, and he’s been kind of a terror today, so, not really?” Before he shakes his head, cheeks filling red again. “Not that I don’t love my kid. Fuck, I love him more than I love curly fries, my entire collection of comic books, and my Jeep, and that’s saying a lot – But it’s kind of hard, you know, being a single dad does not come without struggles, let me tell you. And – Fuck, I just swore in front of my kid. F-uh, I did it again,” he realizes in dawning horror, and Derek looks down at Sirius in his arms who doesn’t seem particularly concerned with his father’s freak out and only nuzzles into Derek’s neck and shoulder deeper before catching his eye in a pout. “Ah?”

Again, his father shakes himself. “Dude, I’m so f- uh I’m sorry, it’s just, been a day and I did not expect you with all your -” He handwaves to Derek’s… _everything_ , before saying, “Lemme just grab my little bundle of joy and we’ll be on our way.”

Unfortunately, while Sirius had been relatively calm, and dare Derek say it? Content? He starts to whine as soon as his father tries to step further than the few steps he’d taken once in his arms and that’s just –

With furrowed brows, his father takes a step further and Sirius’ complaints and wiggling grow more insistent, before his father takes a step back experimentally, and Sirius marginally calms – him and his father both almost pressed up to Derek entirely until the guy takes a step away again.

Derek watches as Sirius’ dad repeats the movement twice before he holds his son in front of him, under his armpits, and declares in something of a whine of his own, “You’re killing me here, kid.”

Pouting, eyes going glassy with tears, Sirius looks to Derek beseechingly, before uttering, “Ah-pah.”

And now the fear has a name because the guy bodily pauses, and then he’s turning to face Derek, his expression carefully blank. “Alpha.”

“Derek, actually,” he says instead, trying to go for casual – like maybe if he plays this off as a toddler just _saying things_ it’ll be okay and – and then Sirius' eyes flash gold and Derek can feel his own eyes flash back and – _Oh. Oh._

Strangely enough, the careful way that Sirius’ dad has been holding him slackens a little, his expression suddenly relieved, before he’s stepping closer again, holding a hand out, “I’m Stiles, Stiles Stilinski.”

Derek hesitates for less than second, the name sticking in his brain until he finally accepts the offered hand. “You’re the Sheriff’s son,” and then any further comments in that vein is abruptly abandoned because at the contact of their hands, the reason for Stiles and Sirius’ lack of scent is answered in the static that tickles Derek’s skin and sudden exhale of winter ozone around them both. “You’re a witch," he breathes.

Stiles’ answering smile is oddly nervous, like he’s afraid of what Derek might think, which would explain the slight sour tinge in his scent, the anxious swipe of his tongue that Derek _definitely wants to feel against his own mouth_ and _Jesus fucking Christ –_

Kicking his legs out, Sirius insists, “Bah-bah-bah!”

At that, Derek shakes his head, clears his throat, and remarks with some amusement, “That explains his name.”

With that, Stiles’ scent outright _blooms,_ but before he can open his mouth, the bag boy interrupts from the end of the aisle, “Hey man, we’re closing. Are you guys leaving or what?”

Looking down at the pasta shell packet still in his hand, Derek’s brows furrow in momentary confusion. “Uh…”

Fortunately, Stiles takes pity on him and touches his arm to get his attention. “I can get you dinner? I mean, I kinda owe you…what with this guy…”

Then, Sirius pats his arm too, looking up at Derek with the same big doe eyes as his dad, lip curled into a pout as he prompts, “Ah-pah?”

And yeah – Derek doesn’t want a Pack – has had no desire for one, but.

But maybe he could.

“Sure,” he answers, “let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

Derek doesn't expect them to have dinner at the Sheriff's, but apparently Stiles had done a straight drive from Berkeley, and Sirius was entirely too fussy to be out in public for too long. 

It doesn't occur to Derek that one of the reasons Stiles didn't want to be caught inside Beacon Hills' city limits was because the Sheriff didn't know he was in town. Which is a fact that becomes abundantly clear from the way the Sheriff hugs his son so tightly that Derek hears Stiles' bone creak.

Something that also becomes abundantly clear is the fact that the Sheriff hasn't seen his grandson in awhile.

He's staring with his mouth agape, eyes wide, looking both too old and too young at once, heartbroken and happy and lost, all his attention on Sirius. Sirius, who demanded with his big brown eyes and pouty mouth, Derek's attention after feeling deprived after the twenty-minute drive it took for Derek to follow Stiles from the grocery store to his father's home.

Stiles, had, fortunately, only looked relieved, and had subsequently thrust his son into Derek's arms after he successfully got his kid out of the car seat of the Jeep. 

He'd felt a bit smug about it then, but now, Derek winces. 

Right, like having a new employee show up at your house, carrying your grandson isn't odd enough, Sirius is openly nuzzling into the soft skin just below Derek's jaw as if instinctively knowing to avoid his beard to spare himself the rug burn. Amongst wolves, it's a sign of trust, an active attempt at scent marking, to humans, well... 

Derek doesn't know how it happens that he and Stiles say in unison, "I can explain" but then neither of them do any actual talking. 

Fortunately, Sirius breaks the ice for them, peeking out from under Derek's chin and then declaring with an excited kick of his feet, "Gampa!" 

The Sheriff looks like he could cry right there.

"Can we do this inside?" Stiles interjects, and Derek politely ignores the none too subtle sniff the Sheriff gives as he nods and ushers them in. 

It isn't the first time Derek's been to the Stilinski household in his short time in Beacon Hills, and now that he's been around Stiles, Derek wonders how he's never noticed it before - the tang of sea salt in the air, the pine cone breeze, the hint of o-zone, the tickle of static. It's not everywhere, isn't something Derek would have noticed if he hadn't known to look for it, but now that he knows it...

Stiles clearly hasn't been home in a while, and Derek knows from the Sheriff's many stories that his kid has been in school for the past three years. But it's here. Stiles' scent is infused in the furniture and the walls, and there's a familiar, if not dormant quality to John's own scent - warm and sleepy and comforting. 

Oh.

"He...he looks just like you," the Sheriff finally says, and it sinks in that for all of his declarations of paternal love for his quote-unquote "idiot son", the diffusion of wood fire and sea air that would unravel beneath it like a flower in bloom whenever he spoke to Stiles on the phone, that somehow, Stiles hadn't told his father about the little boy in Derek's arms.

With a nervous smile, Stiles gestures. "Dad, this is Sirius." 

To his surprise, the soft smiles and softer eyes harden and his father looks almost disapproving, if not disappointed. Derek would be offended on both Stiles and Sirius' behalf but then he's scolding, "Kid, you named him after your dog?" 

At that Stiles turns bright red and flails. "That's - no-no, Dad, Sirius _is_ the dog." 

Now they both look unimpressed, though Sirius clearly isn't as he wiggles and goes, "Rah!"

Ignoring that for the moment, Derek and the Sheriff say in unison, "What?" 

Swallowing hard enough that the sight is practically painful, Stiles stutters, "Sirius - he appeared as a dog." 

"Appeared," Derek repeats in a deadpan.

"I thought - I thought I summoned a familiar, okay? The whole...witch thing, and all. And he looked like a puppy grim, y'know, from Harry Potter? So, I named him Sirius, and my roommate thought he was just a stray so I kept him, and then he shifted and - well - _ta-da_?"

"Ta-daah," Sirius echoes with a gummy grin and a fistful of Derek's collar, beaming at his grandfather, and then whirling his head to beam at Derek and this is just -

"Oh my god, kid.What the hell?"

"Language," Stiles scolds with an exasperated puff of air, then makes grabby hands for his son declaring, "Gimme, you have no respect for his origin story." 

"You're the one that thought he was a dog," Derek scolds, but when Sirius reaches back for his dad, Derek passes him over with as little reluctance as he can muster. 

"In my defense, he was fully shifted for like six months!"

"And you never thought to tell me about this?" John demands, running a hand through his hair and looking haggard.

"I was handling it," Stiles replies, moving his entire body with his eye-roll. "I've been in contact with a druid in Emeryville, and she said while the kind of power needed to produce, y'know, a child, would be huge, it wouldn't be beyond my capabilities what with our family tree."

To that, the Sheriff looks at least more exasperated, and that sleep-warm smell of magic around him makes even more sense than before. 

Still.

"That doesn't explain the werewolf part," Derek points out.

The look freezes, and then the Sheriff is demanding, "Now, hold on, _werewolf?"_

As if compelled, Sirius' eyes flash gold in demonstration, and when Derek doesn't immediately flash his eyes back, conscious of the Sheriff staring at them, Sirius screws his face up in displeasure. His face goes ruddy and angry and upset which only leads to Stiles berating, "Dude!"

With a growl and a roll of his eyes, Derek complies, and the impending storm cloud of the toddler's expression dissipates immediately with a burst of happy giggles, and Sirius leaning over Stiles' arms again to pet Derek's face in approval. 

In a sigh, the Sheriff declares, "I should've known about you." 

Derek winces. "Sir -"

"Don't you 'sir' me now, Hale. I'm clearly getting old, not realizing what you were sooner. This town's familiar enough with you werewolves, what with that Rogue Alpha mess a few years ago." Turning almost resolutely to the kitchen, he opens the fridge with a mumble of, "I need a beer." 

The look of distress on Derek's face must be obvious despite his best attempts to the contrary when Stiles gives an annoyed sigh and takes to scolding, "Cut it out, Dad. Even I didn't know Derek was a wolf until Sirius I.D-ed him as an Alpha, how were you going to?" 

To that, the Sheriff only continues to mutter under his breath.

"You've been singing Derek's praises since he got here," Stiles continues, annoying and persistent, "I'm pretty sure you just went for that beer so you can rip off that report Derek wrote on Whittemore off the fridge and hide it before he sees." To Derek, he explains, "Place of honor, pretty sure my high school diploma and my acceptance letter to Berkeley is on there." 

"I can't believe you've been drinking my beer knowing you couldn't feel it," the Sheriff says to himself looking exasperated which in turn makes Derek flush. 

"I felt bad for always saying no," he mumbles.

"He's a total pushover," Stiles tells his dad, "couldn't tell with the eyebrows, but one wink of this little guy's eyes and -- _poof_ , goner!"

Sirius squeals in agreement, gummy smile and a kick of his feet.

Charmed, but trying desperately hard not to show it, the Sheriff sets aside his unopened beer and crosses his arms before clearing his throat. "So, I've got a magic werewolf grandson?" 

Stiles smiles, runs his hand over Sirius' mess of dark hair and echoes, "Yeah...yeah, you do. And plus side - plus side is: he's nothing like me - just...just the good bits, the better ones." 

And Derek doesn't like the way his words goes flat, his scent going acrid and burned at the edges. But Derek already feels like he's intruding enough, and clearly the Sheriff knows how to handle this when he sighs, quiet and sad, and goes, "Oh, kid" and immediately comes around the counter to wrap the man in a hug, Sirius squished happily between them. 

Derek feels the familiar pull - the homesickness in muscle memory - to hold on, to squeeze, to not let go. 

His mom had warned him that being an Alpha would amplify the feeling - of pack, of family - far more than it would have had he been a normal Beta, but that's the thing isn't it? Derek isn't a Beta anymore. And Derek - practically with a whole country between them - doesn't technically have a pack to miss either.

And looking in on this reunion, hearing Sirius rumbling happily, the laborious shudder both John and Stiles are trying to suppress in their breathing, only makes the aching more potent. 

This moment, however, is not Derek's to look in on or be a part of. 

And Sirius calling him his Alpha, does not make it so. 

Derek makes to retreat, going so far as a step back before Stiles startles out of his father's embrace, blinking back tears, and saying in a slight sniffle, "Hey, where you going? I promised you dinner, didn't I?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hi? 
> 
> This is definitely going to be some domestic "Derek builds a pack" vibe with just, y'know, a hint of angst because that's how I be. Hopefully that's your speed, otherwise, I hope the first chapter satisfies the "Sterek + Baby". Thank you so much for all your comments!
> 
> Side note: I think I need a new title for this, so if you have suggestions, feel free to leave them for me below. 
> 
> Also, I have a [tumblr](https://everything-withered.tumblr.com) if you're on the shy side and want to leave me an ask.


	3. Chapter 3

Come Derek’s next shift, it feels like everyone in the precinct is staring.

Probably because they are.

There’s not so much an elephant in the room as there is a baby.

Though, according to Stiles, while Sirius had only _appeared_ a couple of months ago, the emissary he’d been consulting with had put his age to around a year, give or take a few months. With the added bonus of his shifter abilities, it was hard to pin an accurate number down.

While both Stiles and the emissary had their theories on the _whys,_ Stiles didn’t seem inclined to share them, although Derek has his suspicions that the Sheriff had ideas of his own about the conception of his grandson. If either of them compared notes, Derek hadn’t heard, but it’s not like he’s actually all that invested on the _how._

It doesn’t change that Sirius is already here, and he wants everyone to know it.

“Could you just – yeah, two seconds,” Stiles says, and it’s ridiculous how automatic it is for Derek to accept the armful of toddler.

The way the kid is clearly upset and sniffling, it’s not like Derek could’ve said _no._

Sirius settles quickly at the handoff, rubbing wet cheeks and cooing softly against Derek’s neck as he squirms into a comfortable position before _clinging._

Bouncing a little and patting his butt, Derek subtly presses his chin back against the toddler’s head in reassurance, breathing in that distinctive winter ozone of magic. “You’re alright,” he tells him quietly, though Sirius makes a whimpering noise like he doesn’t believe him which only makes him want to squeeze the little boy tighter.

From the corner of his eye, he swears someone’s sighing dreamily somewhere.

Giving their audience his back, he wills the flush of embarrassment down, the quiet subvocal rumbling in his chest distracting Sirius enough that at the very least, he’s stopped crying. 

Derek’s been accused of being a jerk, but he isn’t a monster.

It’s impossible though, in hindsight, to be so attuned as he is to someone who isn't Pack. At least not yet. There’s no way a bond could’ve formed that quickly – they’d only met yesterday – something he knows his mother would scold him, “ _Time doesn’t matter, pack is pack, it knows_ ” if Derek had bothered to tell her.

Which he hasn’t and won’t, by the way.

The last thing he wants is his Alpha-mother under the impression that Derek can be around his family again – an Alpha without a pack is dangerous to an existing hierarchy.

Laura, his older sister, had already moved to the opposite end of their mother’s territory when her Alpha genes started showing during her freshman year in Colombia, and New York as a state just wasn’t big enough for another Alpha among them, least of all when they’re all from the same family.

Derek doesn’t want to imagine what would happen if he stepped foot in the territory without tethers separate from theirs, he’s already alone enough as it is, being rejected – however instinctively – by the only pack he knows –

He doesn’t realize how upset the thought makes him until Sirius is furiously trying to soothe him, scent-marking almost angrily at the stubble Derek had under control for all of five hours.

Pressing Sirius gently into the curve of his neck to still him, Derek reigns in his own passing terror just as Isaac returns from the break room.

His partner visibly stills, before, “That’s a baby.”

“I’m aware.”

“He…he smells like the Sheriff,” Isaac quietly concludes, passing off his observation under the guise of reaching over to place a Styrofoam coffee cup on Derek’s desk.

It’s a habit Isaac’s formed ever since Derek had arrived.

His mother had warned him that Betas without packs would feel the pull to him as an Alpha.

While Derek’s fairly sure the entirety of Beacon Hills didn’t get bitten by the Rogue, it had taken Derek at least a few hours to realize that Isaac’s interest had been purely instinctual rather than sexual or romantic. Still, Derek had tried only twice to dissuade it before Isaac had given him the sad eyes, and he’s uncomfortably convinced that the third time won’t be the charm. Resolving to ignore it, for now, Derek answers, “It’s his grandson.”

At that, Isaac freezes. “Stiles has a -”

“You ruin all my fun,” the man himself is interjecting almost appearing out of nowhere and making Derek scowl.

He’s hiding his scent again, and even with Sirius pressed up against Derek’s chest, he can’t smell him either, something he doesn’t even have the time to think about for too long when Isaac is stuttering and Stiles is pulling him into a hug that’s half-flail. “Man, I wanted to be the one to tell you,” he’s saying, “I stopped by specifically to make sure Dad didn’t let that cat out of the bag.”

And then Stiles is letting Isaac go so he can rub a hand on the arm holding Sirius in an almost wolf-like gesture, and saying, “But that little guy’s been missing the big guy over here, and _well_.”

“Where did he – _Stiles,”_ Isaac is stuttering, looking hilariously scandalized and then terrified as his gaze flickers from Derek to Stiles and back again.

Given that Derek had given Isaac The Speech at least once every day how Derek isn’t really looking to start a pack, he can understand Isaac’s confusion, and wincing, Derek isn’t imagining the flash of betrayal when he says, “It’s fine.”

Nor is Derek making up the murmur going on in the bullpen either, even if it’s missing the eu du duplicity courtesy of shifter etiquette gone awry coming from Isaac.

Something Stiles himself is well aware of as he turns to the precinct at large and declares, “Yes, yes, you heard right. Stiles Stiliniski’s got a progeny, and he’s _one hundred percent mine_. I’m giving everyone exactly sixty seconds to ask questions: Go.”

Surprisingly, the deputies, random citizens and even some people in holding oblige, which shouldn’t actually be surprising to Derek.

John’s been Sheriff of Beacon County for years, and most of the childhood stories Derek’s been treated to have involved Stiles causing riots in this very precinct.

“Where’s his mom?”

“Not in the picture,” which doesn’t register as a lie. 

“Figures,” Whittemore scoffs, to which Stiles volleys back, “Rude.”

“So, you’re home in disgrace then?” someone in holding muses, which is ironic given that they’re in a cell at two in the afternoon on a Wednesday.

“Actually, I’m graduating early, how’s that for an overachiever? Stiles Stilinski, all grown up, with a baby and a degree, and _ooooh_ , a job too? How do you like me now, Greenberg?”

“What’s his name?” someone asks before Stiles can go on a tirade.

“Sirius, y’know, like the dog star?” Stiles replies with a mischievous twinkle as he runs his hand through his son’s hair, and sends a wink Derek’s way that doesn’t make him flush. It doesn’t.

“Harry Potter, really?” Whittemore follows up to which Stiles responds with _finger guns_ and a cheeky, “You know it!”

Derek’s a little embarrassed for him and Sirius.

Not that the kid even seems to notice.

Now that Derek’s not freaking out, and Sirius himself is happier in proximity to him, he seems far more interested in collecting imaginary lint from Derek’s uniform and babbling to himself.

Like father like son. 

“Is there a reason you’re so cozy with Deputy Hale?” a soccer mom Derek’s probably stopped at least once a week since his move to town, asks, a little envious and a lot miffed.

And it isn’t that Derek so visibly freezes that even Stiles notices.

Except it is.

Fortunately for him, Stiles is turning out to be more wolf than witch when he reaches over and squeezes Derek’s shoulder, allowing a little of his natural scent to bleed out to comfort him. “Well,” Stiles drawls, “this tall glass of water over here somehow managed to charm the moon of my life, so, I decided to keep him.”

Derek is doing a terrible job of hiding his approval of that, going by the truly spectacular bitch face Isaac is giving him.

“And that concludes our little Q and A,” Stiles finishes, flashing everyone a grin before turning his attention to Derek completely and making grabby hands for his kid.

Having apparently gotten his fill of Derek-cuddles, but not exactly pleased with being separated, Sirius only pouts at him from Stiles’ arms.

“Thanks for that, by the way,” Stiles adds, bopping Sirius on the nose in a bid to make him smile (which works, and Derek’s definitely hearing someone swoon). “He really did miss you.”

“And why is that?” Isaac asks with a furrowed brow and a cross of his arms.

Oh, god.

Stiles tuts, “Uh, uh, uh, our Q and A is over, Lahey.”

“Stiliniski,” he begins warningly which is about as threatening as a floppy-eared puppy.

Derek internally sighs. “It’s fine. I didn’t…I didn’t think he’d get so attached so quickly.” Which Sirius clearly disagrees with given the way he’s trying to reach for Derek again like he could prove him wrong with big blinks of glassy brown eyes. _Already done, pup,_ he thinks wanly, scent-marking him with a hand through his hair and a belly rub that Stiles looks entirely too delighted by to witness.

“Yeah, I’m thinking separation anxiety,” Stiles muses fondly. “Do you mind?”

There’s clearly only one answer to this question with the way they’re both looking at Derek, and he resists the urge to sigh out loud. “No, not at all.”

“Unfair,” Isaac decrees with a scowl that Sirius doesn’t appreciate, and from the way Isaac startles when Sirius flashes gold eyes at him, Isaac doesn’t appreciate it either.

“You just – oh, this is bullshit,” Isaac tells Derek before stalking away, doing an about-face, and then coming back to take the coffee cup off Derek’s desk before continuing on in retribution.

“Language!” Stiles scolds to his back, knowing Isaac better than to let Sirius see the middle finger Isaac throws over his shoulder as he exits the precinct.

Now, Derek does sigh.

“Trouble in paradise?” he prods.

“I didn’t…I haven’t been very open to starting a pack,” Derek tells him lowly, and he internally winces at the way Stiles brows raise and how his scent has become masked once more almost defensively. Fuck. “It’s not – I didn’t really…want one.”

As if Sirius could feel the rejection Derek’s trying not to give, he sniffs loudly around an, “Ah-pah?”

“No, no, it’s just – I didn’t -”

Stiles’ entire expression seems to shut down, and then he’s shaking his head a little. “Oh, god. That’s embarrassing. I’ve been steamrolling you this entire time, haven’t I? God, I’m sorry. I didn’t…we’re just going to go. Uh…good luck with Isaac.”

And then Stiles is leaving, and Sirius is trying to reach over his dad’s shoulders to get back to Derek, and Derek’s pretty sure this ranks at least top five of his stupidest mistakes.

Whittemore, with a honed ability to know just the right moment to be a dick, whistles lowly. “Wow, way to go, Hale. “

“Fuck off, Jackson,” he growls, and if he hears an odd whimpering undercurrent that follows him out, Derek’s going to pretend he didn’t hear it.

He’s got enough shit to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drama? So soon? 
> 
> Don't worry, I'm a giant marshmallow of fluff and this angst pit I'm going to throw you in is shallow at best. I think. Anyway. Come yell at me on my [tumblr](https://everything-withered.tumblr.com) and tell me how you really feel ~


	4. Chapter 4

“Stiles’ kid is in your pack,” is the first accusation Isaac starts with, then, bafflingly, just as furious, “And you told him no.”

Alright, so Isaac’s hearing is better than he thought. “I didn’t -”

The glare his way doesn’t throw him – Derek stands by his first assessment; Isaac is as threatening as a puppy – but it does confuse him. “You didn’t even like Sirius.” Which is frankly _weird_. Derek’s been around enough kids – younger siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews – but Sirius redefines the word cute, if only in Derek’s (unnecessarily) biased perspective.

“It’s not that I didn’t like him,” Isaac mutters. “But Stiles never said anything – and then he just shows up with a kid and -”

A reason for his agitation gives Derek pause. “Were you and Stiles…”

“What? No, _god._ ” His cheeks are flushed, and Derek has his doubts but, “When the others and I got Bitten, Stiles was the one who helped us – the whole _magic_ thing was suddenly less important than the fact that we had _moon sickness_.”

Putting the fact that Isaac, and likely the others, saw Stiles as pack aside, Derek groans. “That’s what he calls it?”

“He called it our fury-monthly and Erica punched him.”

She would.

Derek spares a moment to send his mental condolences to any idiot at the fire brigade who thinks she’s just a pretty face.

“So, you’re angry about the fact that he kept Sirius a secret?”

Isaac doesn’t answer, but he’s definitely sulking. God, Derek hopes he wasn't that bad, or he owes his parents and siblings _so many apologies_. Derek sighs. “If it makes you feel better, the Sheriff didn’t know either.”

“ _What?”_

“It’s a magic situation. When he said Sirius was a hundred percent his, he meant it.” Derek figures it’s a rare occurrence, and not for the first time does he want to ply his mother’s emissary with questions on the possibilities. However, for a magic-user to be powerful enough to _create life_ seems like something to keep under wraps, especially since Stiles doesn’t seem solidly affiliated to anyone – coven or pack – besides his father, and, likely, the ragtag group of Bitten Betas.

“So…no mom?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” he says slowly.

“Wait, _Sirius_. He had a familiar by that – _oh.”_

So, Isaac knew that much.

“Being the sole contributor to Sirius' existence is a feat,” Derek says slowly. “It’s dangerous to be that openly gifted, I don’t think Stiles wants it to be common knowledge, even by those like us.”

Though Isaac is initially accepting, he turns furious again. “Then why did you say no? If Sirius claims you as his Alpha, you can protect him!”

“Isaac, that’s -”

“I get not wanting me in your pack – I’m not – I don’t have anything to offer that you couldn’t get from some other Beta, but -”

“Isaac, that isn’t why -”

He continues to steamroll him, going off on a truly concerning tangent of familiar self-loathing, before finishing his impassionated speech with, “It’s why you’re an Alpha, right?”

“No, it’s not.”

Isaac stills, and discomfort seeps out of Derek, filling the squad car with a quiet that settles like a bad smell.

It gives Derek a headache, and even with his attempts to lower his senses, it does nothing but make his body tense.

Even playing at human isn’t helping, he thinks. God, he knew he’d be awful at this, and says as much to Isaac after an hour-long pounding in his skull, and a silence that makes his skin itch.

He sighs. “I wasn’t…I didn’t want to be an Alpha.”

A beat passes, then two, then, “You’re not Bitten though, are you?”

“No,” he says, “Born.”

“But not – as an Alpha?”

“No, that’s not,” Derek sighs again. There’s no reason Isaac would know differently, if he knows anything at all about being a wolf, it wouldn’t be from someone who actually was one which leaves his own experiences as his only source of reliable information. God, it’s a miracle this kid, and the others like him didn’t go rabid. “Every wolf has the potential to be an Alpha, it’s in our DNA. But not everyone’s gene is activated, most of the time it isn’t. Biology doesn’t _choose_ who’s more suited to be an Alpha, but natural order dictates that there are fewer Alphas than there could ever be Betas which is why not every wolf becomes one.”

Isaac is watching him closely, and Derek’s never been more grateful for the distraction of driving. “Becoming an Alpha is gradual, like going through puberty.”

More annoying though, according to Laura.

Along with the growing instinct to forge a pack of their own and the heightening of senses even more than what already existed as a shifter, the completion of the Change from Beta to Alpha was near impossible to prepare for. For Laura, it happened the middle of her graduation ceremony, alone, in front of an audience of her peers.

They’d managed to pass the whole thing off as a seizure, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d become a spectacle as a result. 

If it weren’t for the Hale Pack’s connections, that YouTube video would probably still be up.

Derek wouldn’t know what he’d have done if it had been him.

“But that’s not what happened to you…” Isaac trails quietly in question.

“No.” He huffs out a breath through his nose. “When you’re ‘meant’ to be an Alpha, your biology makes allowances for the Change.” Laura described it as a renovation of sorts – an internal breaking in order to restructure, make room, ensure the foundation and the walls are stable enough for what the space would soon fill. The volatility of the final Change aside, it was a gentler transition than what Derek had gone through. “When you kill an Alpha, there’s no time for adjustments. I’m told it’s like getting Bitten.” 

Isaac shudders at the phantom memory of it, and Derek tries his best to smile in consoling apology, but Isaac’s tense now, and over the quiet now layered with apprehension, Derek says, “I was never meant to be an Alpha, and more than that, I didn’t want to be one. But I didn’t have a choice.”

“You killed someone,” he concludes, and Derek’s almost stupidly relieved that there’s no judgment in his words, in his scent. That despite their situation, and their short acquaintance, Isaac doesn’t believe it would be something Derek just _did._

Although, “I'd do it again. He was going to kill my sister."

Intentions aside, it doesn’t change the fact that he hasn’t seen Cora since, and that Derek still doesn’t know if she forgives him for it.

But it helps, at least a little, to know that he hasn’t completed fucked things up beyond repair with his actions – if not with Cora then at least in admitting his status to someone who’s essentially a stranger.

“That still doesn’t explain anything, why you don’t want a pack, why you don't want to be an Alpha," Isaac points out, brows furrowing.

"I don't know how to be one," Derek admits. "My older sister, Laura, she was meant to be an Alpha. My mother's been preparing her since she started showing signs. After I killed Ennis, there was no time for anything, the Change started almost immediately, and I couldn't stay to learn afterward: I'd end up challenging my mother for the pack, and my father is human. I couldn't ask for my family's help, my status alone would destabilize the hierarchy, and since the only reason I wouldn't know how to be an Alpha is that I didn't learn, which would mean -"

"You'd have to have killed an Alpha to become one," Isaac finishes. 

"They'd claim to know enough of what happened and write me off," he agrees. Hunters usually deal with Rogues, and for a wolf to kill his own...Derek's been treated poorly enough by the few packs he'd run into to know he wasn't welcomed.

"But you protected your sister, you protected your pack." 

"And I don't regret that," he says, "but that doesn't change the fact that I've been a Beta my whole life, and being an Alpha, starting a pack; those are things I can't _just do._ It wouldn't be just me messing up, it would affect whatever pack I build. Why do you think I tried to hide being an Alpha at all when I came?"

At that, Isaac straightens, and perking up like the punk Derek suspects he's always been beneath the pretentious scarves outside of uniform, he latches onto the information he wants, "So you do want to build a pack then, someday?" 

Goddamn it, kid, stop with the eyes, Derek almost snaps with less vitriol and more fond annoyance. "Someday. Maybe." 

To Derek's amusement, with a hum, Isaac decides easily, "Fine. I can wait." Before, they're wincing at a cry coming from the neighborhood they're approaching, and even if they didn't know that the Sheriff lived there, the fact there's no scent to accompany it lowers the list of suspects substantially. "But I don't think Sirius can." 


	5. Chapter 5

“I can’t believe you made a baby cry,” Isaac says, shooting him a look that’s equal parts accusing and amused.

It’s a trend with him, Derek finds.

Isaac balances fond annoyance easily outside of his reflexive instinct to submit and please the Alpha in Derek. Derek pretends it’s a trial and not a relief, even as his skin flushes with the familiarity of the tease, and he childishly reminds, “You made him cry too.”

“He doesn’t like me, I couldn’t have made him cry,” Isaac decides, and then slows in their approach of the Sheriff’s front door, his expression paling in dawning horror that, “Oh god, Stiles’ baby doesn’t like me.”

There isn’t enough time to let the severity of Derek’s eye-roll depress him further when the door opens, and the crying hits them like an air siren the shape of a tidal wave. The noise doesn’t just wash over them, it collapses on top of them until they’re physically cringing under its weight.

Over Sirius’ cries, Isaac begs, “Make him stop.”

“You think I haven’t tried,” Stiles demands with a grind of his teeth even as he tries to rock Sirius back and forth. Beckoning them in as he distractedly carries his kid in, shushing intermittently, he demands in a soothing hiss, “What are you doing here?”

“We heard the crying,” Derek admits, and he doesn’t miss the way Stiles turns resolutely away from him – giving him his back, hiding his expression – and without the tell of scent, Derek’s running blind.

Obviously, though, Stiles doesn’t want him there.

Not that Derek blames him.

He essentially rejected Sirius, an actual toddler – a werewolf cub without a pack beyond his father who isn’t a wolf himself, who also happens to be magic – and Derek had _implied_ that he didn’t want him; Derek wouldn’t want him there either.

The human part of him itches to retreat, but the wolf part of him is keeping him rooted, as if Sirius’ emotional turmoil is a punishment he needs to bear as a result of his carelessness, and Derek will admit it, he hates taking responsibility for things: He left his familial pack, left the only territory he’s ever known, has essentially gone into exile by refusing to take in any Betas, hell, it’s the reason Sirius is even upset at all; because Derek’s responsible enough to know he can’t be the Alpha anyone needs.

A sentiment Sirius doesn’t care for with the way he sniffles, looks at Derek with tear-soaked cheeks over his dad’s shoulder, and hiccups, “Ah pah, ah pah, ah pah!”

Stiles keeps shushing him, his murmurs just loud enough to make out the strain in his throat as he tells his son, “We don’t need him, bud. We’ll be okay. Everything’s going to be okay. It’s you and me. C’mon Sirius. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

And it says something about Derek (probably something selfish) that he finds some kind of hope that Sirius _clearly isn’t,_ and that Stiles had said “we” like he’s just as invested in Derek being there for him as much as for Sirius.

Which isn’t right, doesn’t make sense; Derek’s barely gotten to know Stiles, _doesn’t know him_ , period.

But in the Sheriff’s home where Stiles’ scent, however hidden, is fresher and familiar and sweet, Derek finds himself not wanting to leave, even as he helplessly flounders for what to do with himself now that he’s here.

Isaac’s answer is to make eyes at him, nudging none too subtly with a chin jerked in their direction to _fix it, do something, make it better, be the Alpha!_

God, Derek never wants Betas.

Sirius expression twists then, having been ignored long enough that he stutters on a wail, and then it’s a scream – painful and heart-wrenching – and _god, Derek can’t let the kid keep at it anymore._

“I owe you an explanation,” Derek tries over his wince, already reaching over, accepting Sirius in his arms even as Stiles tries to keep him in his, twisting so they’re standing face to face, Sirius in between them.

It’s good enough. Sirius stops crying.

He’s whimpering a little as he rubs his face against Derek’s neck, murmuring, “Ah pah, ah pah” and trying to aggressively scent-mark his way into Derek’s skin, but beyond the little shudders from the aftermath of his cries, he’s calmer.

And though Stiles has physically sagged in relief, he holds himself tight, telling Derek with carefully constructed calm, “You can’t – you can’t just – _go,_ and come back. He’s a – he’s a kid, and kids don’t understand -”

“I know,” Derek says, trying to be soothing. “I didn’t, I’m not good with words. I didn’t…I didn’t mean it the way I said it.”

“That you don’t want to be his Alpha?”

Sirius shudders like he can feel the rejection of it, his breath coming out in a loud rasp. Derek hums, pressing his palm against the baby’s back, and over Stiles’ own hand as if he can press reason and apology into flesh.

“I don’t want to be anyone’s Alpha.”

“Yet,” Isaac interjects and doesn’t look the least bit chastised with Derek’s look.

Stiles startles, then, “What?”

“Do you know the stories of how a shifter becomes an Alpha?” Derek ventures to ask, and after a moment’s hesitation, Stiles nods. Derek knows as much about witches as Stiles probably knows about shifters; nothing concrete until confirmed, and after this, there’s no going back. Derek licks his lips. “I don’t know how to be one.”

At that Stiles finally pauses. He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t pull Sirius away which is a small mercy, but the revelation is eye-opening enough, a deal-breaker, for sure. It had been for other wolves, after all, and if a wolf can’t trust one of its own…

Despite Sirius’ upset, the scratching of Derek’s wolf against the walls of his consciousness, _it’s not too late._

There is no bond yet.

Sirius doesn’t have to be a slave to his instincts, he doesn’t have to just accept any Alpha that crosses his path, he deserves a good Alpha – someone who knows what they’re doing – someone who didn’t have to kill someone to be what they are.

Stiles’ heartbeat is frighteningly quiet as he asks, “Did you mean to do it?”

A beat.

“Yes.”

Another beat.

“Did they deserve it?”

No hesitation, “Yes.”

“Is that why you moved all the way from New York?”

“Yes.”

“Is that why you won’t let Isaac be your Beta?”

“Yet,” he interjects making Derek roll his eyes and answer, “Yes.”

Stiles’ exhale is half laugh, half choke. “You’re a better person than I am.”

At that, Isaac makes a protesting noise which Stiles ignores in favor of leveling Derek with a look. “From what I know of you, what Isaac and my dad have said, and what you’ve just told me – I trust your instincts. Do you?”

Once upon a time, he wouldn't have to even think about it. Being a Born-wolf made relying on his instincts something he didn't even have to think about. But being an Alpha had shifted that perception entirely; sometimes instincts _couldn't_ be trusted, they could just be wrong; sometimes it _was_ just about building a pack and getting strong enough to challenge others for territory - its why he'd picked a place without other Alphas, where Betas _should've_ been used to being without one that they wouldn't even be interested in Derek. 

Derek's own sister wasn't even interested in him. 

Cora had outright _left_ when Derek became Alpha, what did that say about him?

“You don’t even know me,” Derek reminds him quietly.

“No, I don’t,” Stiles agrees with a sigh, “but I trust Sirius, and Sirius – Sirius knows. And-and you not knowing how to be an Alpha? That I can help with." Derek doesn't dare to look hopeful, but Stiles gives him an encouraging smile anyway. "I helped four newly Bitten Betas through their first full moons, and that stupid retrograde bullshit that happened like twice last year," he says with an extravagant roll of his eyes that moves his whole body, and makes Sirius giggle into the hinge of Derek's jaw. Stiles' smile comes more easily as he reaches over to ruffle his son's hair before his eyes hardens when his gaze flicks to meet Derek's. "But this has to be something you want." 

And as usual, any breadcrumb of "pack" has Isaac lingering closer, giving him puppy eyes from beside Stiles. 

Derek doesn't have to look down at Sirius to know that the expression is echoed there too. 

"Not because of this," Stiles gestures with a flick of his wrist, almost hitting Isaac in the face and getting him to grumble, and making Sirius giggle louder, before cuddling closer. "Or this," Stiles touches Sirius. "Like I said, we'll be okay. We might not be for a while, and it would've been easier if he had you, but - but we're not your responsibility." 

"Yet," Derek tacks on, and it's easier to accept the way everyone straightens up at that. "I want a pack, I miss having one, and I miss my family back in New York. Leading a pack though, being an Alpha, I just - I don't know if I'm the best person to do it." 

"Then leave it to me," Stiles declares, grin wide, scent flourishing in tedium to the way his brown eyes brighten. "I'll have to get some werewolf-approved literature on how to get the job done, but..." He winks. "I can be your Alpha." 


	6. Chapter 6

Derek’s half-awake by the time his shift is over. The day, thankfully, wasn’t physically demanding, but now that he’s acknowledged the budding bonds of a pack, he can feel the separation pulling at him, making him restless and jittery with a kind of excitement rife with potential. He's hopeful and relieved and nervous as hell which are all feelings that sour a little at finding Erica casually leaning against his car.

That Jackson Whittemore is loitering nearby and having a hushed conversation into his phone, only adds to the prickling of adrenaline Derek’s doing a good job of ignoring as he sighs out, “No.”

She crosses her arms, cocks her head and doesn’t budge.

“You told me you didn’t need a pack,” he says, hiding the plea in his voice well with a dark look and a scowl.

It doesn’t deter her.

“You said yes to Isaac.”

Derek grunts.

“You didn’t want a pack.”

“Neither did you,” he points out.

At that, she scowls. “I thought wolves could tell when people lie.”

“You weren’t lying, at least not completely.” It’s one of the many loopholes to be exploited as a shifter. Most Bitten never feel the need to learn. Derek’s grudgingly impressed.

"You claim you don’t want a pack, but you said yes to Isaac,” Erica reiterates loosening her arms, stepping forward tentatively. “You said yes so you were lying too.”

“It’s instinct to want to build one,” he defends and then there’s a hesitation, disappointment, and then anger, “So what,” she barks, “you just said yes to get him off your back? You still don’t want -”

 _Me,_ he hears, even as she abruptly cuts herself off and looks away.

God, did that Rogue give the Bite to every damaged teenager in this town?

“I thought you were good,” Derek says, and he’d believed it even then. Erica had a job and a life, and she didn’t need a pack or an Alpha messing that up for her. With the difficulty of her high school career after being Bitten, Derek himself was loathe (and grateful) not to affect her life in any way.

“I said that because I didn’t trust you, but you’re – you’re good. You’re a good deputy, you’re a good person, you’re good. The Sheriff and Isaac say so.” And while there’s an edge to her words – like she’s angry she wasn’t included in the investigation of Derek’s vague sense of goodness even though she wanted nothing to do with him – Erica squares her shoulders, daring him to disapprove as she declares, “So, I want in.”

Derek knows her bravado doesn’t count for anything, it’s still in his hands to turn her down.

He may want a pack, but he doesn’t have to let just anyone into it.

But knowing what he does now about Isaac – that confessional in the squad car had made Derek feel a thousand times worse because he’d felt both protective and guilty at once – Derek can’t bring himself to refuse.

And looking at Erica, fierce and demanding and unrepentant, he doesn’t think he could say no anyway.

His sisters would like her.

“You’re a regular she-wolf,” he says with a sigh of defeat, and Erica takes that for the victory it is, preening at the undertow of his approval. “We’re going to the Sheriff’s.”

“Pack meeting,” she guesses as she opens the door to the passenger side without a second thought, just as Isaac barrels into her with a growl.

“No way, that’s my seat.”

“You ride along with him all the time,” Erica snorts. “It’s my turn.”

“Peasants,” Jackson sniffs as he approaches with a flash of gold eyes.

Good God, that Rogue had questionable taste.

“No way,” Isaac enunciates, unsurprised, reminding Derek that there’s so little he actually knows about this place he’s chosen for himself; Derek didn’t even bother to find the other Betas once Erica had told him they wouldn’t be interested and Isaac had looked all disappointed, but Derek doesn’t have the time to berate himself for it.

“If I can’t sit in the front, like hell you’re going to,” Erica is retorting, and there’s entirely too much fang coming out for them to be doing this in public, especially since the drive to the Sheriff’s is ten minutes tops.

Though, that’s what he gets, Derek supposes, for holding out on them for so long. He can practically hear his mother laughing.

With a sigh, heavily aggrieved and rethinking his life choices, Derek barks, “Backseat all of you.”

Hilariously, they all look scandalized, but when he flashes his eyes, there’s an answering grumble before they do what they’re told.

Derek sits through another minute of them fighting over who gets the shitty middle seat, and trying to angle for the empty passenger seat beside him which is when he tells them, “We’re fetching Boyd, and he’s not going to fit back there.”

Erica frowns. “Why is Boyd coming? He’s not -”

“He knows you’re Bitten, right?” Derek asks, his impatience making his brows twitch and silence the complaints of the Betas behind him.

“Right…”

“And he’s your mate,” he continues, “ergo, Boyd is coming.”

The surprise in her scent comes like a breeze, refreshing and sweet, and Derek’s gratified by the softness in her eyes through the rear-view. “Oh.”

“Danny should come,” Jackson decides.

“I already called him,” Derek says, “he’s meeting us there.”

The tightness around Jackson’s shoulders loosens, and Derek sighs as he pulls out of his parking space and heads to the bakery down on Main. “Danny didn’t tell me about you.”

Jackson goes for casual with a shrug. “Isaac said you didn’t want a pack, and Danny didn’t want to make it weird that his boyfriend was a packless Beta.”

“Danny is this territory’s emissary, not _my_ emissary,” Derek points out, “and we don’t even talk that much anyway.”

“You asked him for advice on those trolls,” Jackson reminds petulantly.

“Wait _, there were trolls_?” Both Erica and Isaac are demanding. “We could’ve -”

“I took care of it,” Derek interjects shooting them a glare which only results in more grumbles and a mutinous, “You let Danny help.”

“Again, Danny is the emissary of Beacon Hills, he’s honor bound to protect this land,” Derek reminds as they roll to a stop at an intersection. “And none of you signed up for this which is exactly why you need to decide if you really want in on this pack business because that’s what it includes.”

“Fighting trolls?” Erica is saying, baffled and offended like the question isn’t _would she want to_ , but rather _why wouldn’t she_.

Derek is almost amused. “It’s dangerous.”

“I willingly run into burning buildings, and this guy gets his jollies off pissing off rich assholes like him in courtrooms,” she reminds, reaching over Isaac to cuff the back of Jackson’s head to a snap of his teeth.

Jesus, it's like they were raised by wolves.

Isaac complains, “What about me, I’m a deputy!”

“In a county with one of the lowest crime rates in California. It’s a waste of werewolf superheroism is all I’m saying.” Which leads to Erica asking, “Why did you decide to move here anyway, Derek?”

Isaac goes Bambi-eyed in the rear-view and the car fills with anxiety enough for Jackson to roll down the window, complaining, “The fuck kind of fart are you ripping off here, Lahey?”

Derek sighs, parking the car in front of Boyd who was waiting for his bus home. Squeezing the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache while Erica waves at her husband in invitation, Boyd climbs into the empty passenger’s seat just as Derek says, “I killed a guy and became an Alpha.”

Boyd’s seatbelt clicks loudly in the ensuing silence.

Jackson is the first to speak, “Did he deserve it?”

“Yes,” he and Isaac say in unison – and though Isaac is determined and earnest – its Jackson, Erica and Boyd’s turn to decide what to do what that information.

It turns out, they do nothing.

“Can you drive faster? I need to pee,” Erica says.

Jackson scoffs. “At least you aren’t getting the brunt of Isaac’s nervous stomach.”

“Shut up, it’s not – I don’t know how to hide it. And like you should talk, not everyone has a magic boyfriend who hides their scent!”

“Oh, we should get takeout,” Erica decides before peering over the front seat and asking Boyd, “Hey babe, did you bring any leftovers from work?”

Boyd’s empty-handed so attention is turned to Derek, and he’s sighing again as he points the car towards the nearest fast food joint and ordering his newly accumulated group of Betas not to act like idiots in public before exchanging a look of pure exhaustion with the human among them.

Derek thinks he likes Boyd best.

Derek’s leaning against his car waiting for them to come back when his phone buzzes and Stiles says, “So, how’s it going Alpha-Adjacent?” And it says so much about Derek that he can hear the wiggle of the other man’s brows, and still be charmed.

“I’m coming home with two more wolves and a human than what I left with.”

He hums, “Oh cool, you picked up the kids.”

“Stiles.”

Derek can practically see the wide-eyed blinks he accompanies with an innocent, “Yes?”

“I told them to get your dad the heart-healthy option, if there is none, it’s one of _your kids’_ fault.”

With a sharp intake of breath, Stiles decides, “I know like ninety percent of our interactions have been grade-school level flirting so far, but please know I’m blowing you as soon as we get to be alone.”


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles’ mouth is obscene.

It’s a memory that doesn’t need to a refresher, but thanks to his parting words on the phone, there’s no way around it. It’s all Derek is thinking about it.

He’s never been more grateful for being the Alpha, god knows how strong the pheromones he’s giving out would be if his control loosened enough for the Betas to scent it. Which doesn’t really count for anything when he’s still got Sirius in his arms, and a pack all around him; a pack which is relatively young, only a few years Bitten and hasn’t had the direction of an Alpha before. 

At least not of the shifter variety.

“You chained them to a radiator?” Derek deadpans.

“In my defense,” Stiles begins, “my Spark hadn’t been a _thing_ yet, and my dad’s magic hasn’t been a thing since my mom died so we were kind of out of options.”

“Where were you when this was happening?” Derek asks Danny, who winces.

“In denial.” At Derek’s disbelieving look, Danny continues, “The magic line of my family skipped a generation, and my grandma just assumed that since we moved here from Hawaii, we weren’t bound by emissary rites anymore. I always just thought the stories they passed around were just that, and that the supernatural was just a tv show.”

“Up until Jacks showed up in his bedroom and wouldn’t leave without at least humping his lacrosse stick,” Erica says with a wiggle of her brows, and just _god, I don’t even know if that’s a euphemism,_ Derek thinks, and Jackson and Danny’s identical blushes aren’t helping Derek’s attempt to parse out what happened.

Though, Stiles moves things along to explain, “That’s when I brought everyone together. The books I got talked about anchors, but since I didn’t know how to talk them through it, I kind of just…let them find theirs?” Derek opens his mouth to protest – the fact that anchors _shouldn’t be people_ that _risk of exposing them was so ridiculously high_ and _what if something had gone wrong_ which Stiles intercepts with a frantic, “I know, I know, bad idea. Scott showed up at Allison’s house which is literally the last thing any of us wanted.”

He frowns. “Who’s Scott?”

Curiously, there’s a physical pause before Isaac clears his throat and replies, “The other Beta that was Bitten.”

“He’s with Deaton,” Boyd provides.

“Local vet, part-time druid, all around cryptic asshole,” Jackson elaborates to everyone’s agreeable nods except in the case of Stiles – distress flashing in his expression, in his eyes for a second before it’s gone.

Sirius, in Derek’s arms, whimpers.

Bouncing the little boy to soothe him, Sirius presses close to his chest – something that the Betas around him try to do as well as they lean in closer.

Clearly deprived of the comfort, Derek doesn’t deter their crowding as he asks, “And Allison?”

“Hunter,” Jackson grunts, his arm pressed against Derek’s. “According to her, they follow a Code, but that didn’t stop them from taking Erica when Allison’s asshole grandfather came around looking for _sport._ ”

Derek grimaces, and at his growl, Erica whimpers into his collar.

“She felt bad about that,” Isaac hesitantly reminds to which Jackson snorts.

“Who told you that, Scott?”

“I met with Chris Argent,” Derek interrupts as Stiles turns away, Sirius gets more upset and the pack’s agitation around him grows more tangible, “when I first got here, I had to meet with him. He didn’t mention anything about this.”

“Probably because it’s over now,” Stiles says to another snort from Jackson.

“Chris is…he’s okay,” Isaac says, and that at least doesn’t warrant derision, “he isn’t like his dad. And once everything happened, he told Gerard to leave. He got the Hunter Council called in and everything. It was all supposed to be water under the bridge.”

“You’re not the one who had to regrow multiple bones. You’re not the one that had to look that bitch in the eye _and smile_ because _Scott said_ that Allison didn’t mean to draw me into a trap,” Erica grumbles sullenly and Derek doesn’t have to think twice about grasping the back of her neck to hold her to him. He feels her take a breath and burrow close, and his rumbles grow louder without a second thought; the pack draws closer in sympathy.

Stiles looks both sad and happy at the sight, and Derek bites down on the invitation to pull him near when he turns away again like somehow this isn’t something he’s allowed.

“Why isn’t Scott around?” Derek ventures to ask – surely the supernatural community in nowhere California isn’t so large that they can so easily avoid each other.

Even with who Derek assumes is Scott’s mate, wolves are pack animals by nature and spurning the only wolf community within a hundred miles would just be asking to become an Omega, and if there’s anything that’s universally known about shifters it was that omega-status was, capital letters, Not Good.

“Scott is an idiot,” Danny is the one to say, and from the looks on everyone’s face, it’s a surprising revelation.

“Oh no, we all agree,” Erica remarks once the silence drags too long and Derek’s staring at them all expectantly for some kind of explanation, “we just…did not expect it from you, Danny boy.”

He shrugs. “It had to be said.”

“He’ll become an Omega though, without a pack,” Derek reminds.

“Oh, we’ve tried telling him that,” Stiles says sounding bitter, and if Isaac were a flower, he’d have withered and gotten his dead petals all over Derek for the way he droops. “Let’s just say he didn’t take to his wolfiness particularly well outside of the cured asthma," he continues, and Derek tries to suppress the prickling of anger poking at his wolf at the disregard of the Bite's gift.

“With that whole ‘love of his life’ thing with an actual hunter, it’s safe to say Scott lost the asthma and the common sense in one foul swoop,” Danny says, “Don’t worry about the omega-status, Deaton said he’s stabilizing Scott, and for all his shadiness, Deaton isn’t about to let another wolf situation happen under his watch. At least he won’t if I have anything to say about it.”

As the emissary of Beacon Hills, it would be within Danny’s jurisdiction to banish Deaton from the territory on the grounds of Deaton’s unsatisfactory results in protecting the land, and while Derek hadn’t found the man particularly awful when they’d met, he wouldn’t exactly get in Danny’s way if he was so inclined.

His approval while silent and scentless is still noticed, and Jackson looks particularly proud of his mate which has an accompanying smell that breaks through whatever magic Danny’s got him under which serves to make the rest of the Betas fake-gag and push him off.

Happily, Jackson sweeps Danny onto his lap and reclines just enough on the couch that he’s still in range of Derek, and looking pleased as punch about it.

Despite their annoyance, the scent around them turns sweeter and the grief and fear that tinged the air before is mostly muffled, mostly gone.

Derek doesn’t need Stiles scent to know the same can’t be said of him.

It’s a suspicion that doesn’t ease as the rest of the pack meeting goes on – which is really the equivalent of orientation since the Betas had never really had much direction before beyond a few days of training a month to keep their control in check.

“What do you usually do on a full moon?” he asks them.

While Derek has his own routine as a Beta of his mother’s pack, as an Alpha he’s still figuring out the best way to get through it that doesn’t involve trying to run all the way back to New York.

Since coming to Beacon Hills, he’d mostly kept to himself, straying into the Preserve for a night run before passing out in his living room. And while he’d been satisfied enough with the routine, he’s sure being with pack would be something they could all appreciate – if they were willing, of course.

Boyd answers, “We go to a cabin – it’s at least two days drive to get far enough out of the Hunters way, but it isn’t…” He exchanges a look with Erica who swallows and admits with downturned eyes. “It isn’t the safest, for either of us.”

“The Sheriff gives me off every month, I…uh…hide out, usually, in their basement,” Isaac says with a nudge of his head to a door. “Didn’t quite grow out of being cuffed to a radiator,” he admits looking embarrassed.

“You learned control without the help of another shifter,” Derek reminds him, “it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Which is something he sends in a look to Stiles who looks equally embarrassed for absolutely no reason – inwardly, Derek shakes his head – _looks like that Rogue did mess with every damaged teenager after all._

“We stay home,” Danny says neutrally, though, with the self-satisfied look on Jackson’s face, there’s no mystery as to how they deal with his increased physical energy.

Even Sirius makes a protesting “pah” noise to go along with his scrunched face of displeasure, Sirius is so offended by the ensuing scent of lingering arousal from his packmate that he turns big brown eyes at Derek like he can stop it – sticking fingers into Derek’s mouth as if that’ll get him on his side.

Teasing a bite around the intruding digits, and making exaggerated munching noises, Derek smiles at the toddler’s surprised giggles and catches Stiles’ eye, who’s looking particularly pink. He clears his throat. “If it’s alright with all of you, we can spend the full moon together.”

Isaac straightens so fast he almost knocks Derek over, and though Jackson visibly stills, there’s a smile lurking at the corner of his mouth.

Erica looks hopeful, and Boyd incrementally relieved, but there’s an exchange of looks once more that speaks of hesitation and Derek rolls his eyes. “Boyd can come, it’s a pack thing – he doesn’t need to _run_ with us. I live in an actual house, you know, you and Stiles can watch tv or something until we get back.”

“Tah-tah?” Sirius asks, tilting his head, and then turning to look at his dad.

Derek meets Stiles’ eye from over Sirius’ head, smiles and says, “Yes, Tata can come. And your grandpa too, if he wants.”

Over the pack’s laughter and Sirius’ delighted squeals, it would’ve been easy to miss the shaky breath Stiles exhales, the uptick of his heartbeat, the curl of his smile, the dilation of his pupils, if Derek hadn’t been looking.

But he is.

Derek decides they need to be alone _pronto._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, I promise! *hides*


	8. Chapter 8

The pack doesn’t scatter until after dinner, after the Sheriff comes home – looking bemused and glad to have a house full of people, and around his dining table – and after Sirius gets put to bed after one too many heavy blinks and rosebud yawns.

And not before.

Not before the wolves crowd around Derek curiously when he blatantly scent marks Jackson in a combined effort to tell him not to get into fights in public anymore if he really just wanted Derek’s attention, not before Isaac drapes himself all over Derek with a chuff that sounds suspiciously like “I knew you’d see it my way”, and not before Erica cuddles close with an almost shuddering sigh that feels like a thank-you.

He holds them tight, perhaps a little tighter than he should.

(But they’re wolves, they’ll be fine.)

The bonds created now are new and flimsy, but when Derek closes his eyes, he can feel the strength of its comforting thrum as it chases away the loneliness that had found its home in him since his departure from New York.

They aren’t family – not yet – but this-this doesn’t feel as scary as it once did, or at least, as it should.

He has lives beyond his own to care for now, they’ll rely on him for guidance, for protection, and Derek-Derek’s still afraid.

But.

Boyd would do anything for Erica, as would Danny, and Stiles –

Derek isn’t alone.

Boyd clutches Derek’s hand gratefully, and Danny’s smile is far softer and far too self-satisfied to exist at the same time (Derek can practically hear the _I told you so_ emanating from the emissary), but if Derek only rolls his eyes in return, he does it with too much fondness to actually mean it. 

They all part happily with promises to meet up for training and patrolling as previously discussed, and even though Jackson does a decent job of pretending it’s all beneath him, he lingers a little longer for a chance of another brush of Derek’s hand through his hair.

With the Sheriff holding Sirius as he sleeps, and looking well onto his way to joining his grandson, Derek closes the door behind their last guest which is exactly when Stiles pushes Derek right up against it.

“You know,” Stiles begins, breath teasing at Derek’s ear and the sensitive skin of his neck as his hand presses firm against Derek’s chest while the other is moving distractedly against his belly. “I didn’t know I could have a thing for the whole ‘responsible Alpha’ look.”

“Really,” Derek murmurs with a huffed breath, treated to a lungful of the arousal Stiles is leaking out of his scent like a tease as physical in its effect as the thigh Stiles has wedged between Derek’s legs. “Seems like you do.”

Stiles hums his agreement, dimple biting into his cheek, and Derek doesn’t have to do much – only tilt his head to catch his lips; feel that wellspring of a winter storm and lightening brush over his skin in a caress, almost forgotten in the rush of adrenaline in his own ears, the sound of their heartbeats pounding out of their respective ribcages and – it’s ridiculous.

Derek is a grown man.

He should not be making out against a door while his boss is sleeping in another room, and he certainly shouldn’t be grinding one out, fully clothed, either.

“Stiles,” he manages, something caught between protest and encouragement. “Stiles -”

“Oh god, Der, you’re gonna tell me to stop _I know it -”_

“Your dad and your son are literally across the hall -”

“They won’t hear or smell anything -”

Through grit teeth, Derek informs, “And I’d really rather not have our first time be against your front door.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Stiles declares wrenching himself away so fast Derek’s dizzy with the lack of him, in his space, in his arms, against his – “But just so you know, as a dad, once my little bundle of joy is all fuelled up and ready to go, you aren’t getting any of this.” And again, it says something about Derek that he’s only amused and charmed by Stiles’ exaggerated hand wave over himself. That Derek’s wolf is distracted by the redness of Stiles’ mouth, his high flush, and the impressive tent in his pants is another matter entirely.

With a flash of Alpha red eyes, Stiles grins before turning tail and racing up the stairs – and really Derek should’ve known.

It's embarrassing how quickly the chase ends, how quickly they both reach the peak of their pleasure. While Stiles is beautifully bare, pink from ears to leaking tip, Derek still has his pants on, had time enough just to get the zip undone before Stiles closed his hand around them both. 

It's a blur after that, and not a particularly quiet one given the way the bed had creaked and Stiles had moaned and talked and moved - Derek wasn't any better, but he trusts Stiles to keep his word - that his magic will conceal them from waking his family with their debauchery. 

“You’re good with them,” Stiles says in the aftermath, breathless still and grinning dopily at the ceiling.

Derek huffs out a laugh. “You weren’t kidding about your _thing_ over responsible Alphas.”

At that, Stiles snorts, turning over on his side, wide palm and long fingers stretched across to rest over Derek’s heart, smile soft and eyes softer. “You’re gonna be a good Alpha.”

He chuckles. “It’s still the honeymoon period,” he explains away with an underlying wariness and a shrug that does little to shake the shadow of that burden off. “They found an Alpha, it-it does things to a Beta, biologically, tells them they’re safe.”

“And what does it do to an Alpha?”

He exhales. “Grounds them.”

“And?” Stiles prods with his clever eyes and a hint of something at his mouth.

“Freaks them out,” Derek admits, smiling almost reflectively as Stiles laughs, even as he tries to coach the muscles of his face back into its default scowl. “What’s so funny?”

“Most people would _not_ admit that. The Alphas I’ve met,” he cuts himself off abruptly before shaking his head.

“The Rogue?”

“No, no – he was dead long before, I – I met a few, in school.” He takes a breath. “And Scott kind of became one too.”

The frown comes easier now. “Isaac said he was a Beta.”

“He was, for a while. A bunch of shit happened actually. There was a Darach and a human sacrifice situation to contaminate the Nemeton, and just – _shit happened,_ ” Stiles says and his hand wave is so spastic it almost slaps Derek in the face.

“Scott -”

“Became a True Alpha, would you believe it?” Stiles offers in a chuckle that sounds choked, and Derek’s jaw clamps shut with an audible click. “Deaton said that Scott was this legendary Alpha of old; good and brave and strong – all that jazz.” He snorts to himself. “Scott already had a big head just _being a werewolf_ you know? And to tell the guy he was this head honcho of all Alphas just – it made him pretty unbearable.”

“Stiles -”

“He’d been caught up in Allison even more than usual after that, like being the True Alpha made him better than the other wolves. Deaton didn’t do much to talk him out of that, not that Deaton ever did anything useful. You know how many times I almost died because Scott couldn’t answer his damn phone, and Deaton insisted I could handle it?” The bitterness in his scent bleeds through his magic, sharp and obtrusive, and Derek’s ear twitches with Sirius’ confused murmur, his instinctive need to react and soothe as the Sheriff’s equally confused grunt and mumble follows suit from the living room below.

Derek wraps a hand around the base of Stiles’ skull – fingers tangling in the mess of brown hair there, inner wrist flush against the long, pale column of his throat.

The rambling stops, the smell stills; Stiles’ mouth hangs.

“Uh…”

Derek huffs a laugh. “You’ll wake the baby.”

“Rude,” Stiles hisses with a mock glare and a flush that’s equal parts embarrassed and aroused.

Derek’s wolf gives an interested huff, but Derek reigns him in determinedly. They have time for that again later. “Stiles, there’s no such thing as a True Alpha.”

“But Deaton said -”

“It’s in the literature, yes,” he hastens to say in case Stiles steamrolls him again, “But they’re the equivalent of werewolf fairy tales. True Alphas don’t exist, at least not on their own, and they’re not even that impressive. They’re only referred to as a True Alpha when they’ve bonded to a Spark – and the shifter only became legend purely based on the relationship with the Spark rather than anything of their own doing.”

Which means, if Scott’s still a “True Alpha”, Stiles is bound to Scott –

Stiles, quick as he is, begins haltingly, “You’re telling me…there are werewolf fairy tales?”

“That’s what you got from that?” Derek demands with a scowl.

“Dude, do you have any idea how hard I looked for werewolf-friendly tales to tell Sirius? I had to make my own! And let me tell you, storytelling is not my forte. I had to read him fanfiction – Der, _fanfiction_ , do you know how hard it is to find Sirius Black fanfiction that isn’t porn? I mean, I get it, he’s a sexpot, and the chemistry with Remus Lupin? Off the charts. But –”

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek interrupts in the face of Stiles’ complete lack of urgency. “Are you bound to Scott or not, Stiles?”

“No, of course not. We’re barely friends as it is,” he insists and the lingering agitation Derek feels abates with Stiles’ explanation, “Sparks – their magic is in belief – and I believed in Scott. I believed and believed.” Abruptly he stops, his swallow painful to hear and almost muffling his conclusion, “Until it became clear he wouldn’t do the same for me.”

“Stiles -”

Suddenly serious, he says, “You have to promise me that what I have to tell you won’t affect Sirius.”

“What?”

“Promise me.”

Considering, Derek asks instead, “Will it endanger the rest of the pack?”

Though he fully expected him to recoil in offense, Stiles just looks relieved and says, heartbeat clear, “No. It won’t.”

“Then, I promise.”

“It’s about how Sirius came to be, or how we think it happened anyway. It’s…a bit of story.”

For once, Stiles is careful with the words he chooses, measured, like he knows the weight of each and he can’t afford to tip the scales out of balance. “That Darach, the sacrifice, that’s where it started, it woke my Spark and with what you said, it turned Scott into what we all believed was the True Alpha.”

“Deaton said that stopping the sacrifice meant opening ourselves up to the darkness the Darach released, and Allison and I, we waited for the other shoe to drop except, Scott became the ‘True Alpha’ and we figured – _for once, something good happened, we were home free and there was no debt to be paid._ And then-then the nightmares started.” He swallows hard.

“Thanks to the sacrifice, I’d basically become a waiting vessel for a demon. I started having hallucinations, I’d sleepwalk into the preserve, I’d wake up covered in blood – Isaac said – Isaac promised it was animal blood and not-not human. But I. I was pretty freaked out.” He shakes his head. “Deaton said I had nothing to worry about. But Scott, he didn’t – he didn’t believe me at all. He didn’t even come when I called that first time I sleepwalked into the Preserve and didn’t come any time after that. Boyd did though. And my dad. And even Chris Argent. And then Erica and Isaac took turns watching me at night.” He scoffs. “Even _Jackson_ did more than Scott, and Jackson didn’t even like me then.”

With another breath, he says, “And then that fuck Matt Daehler came into our lives and started peeling at all the fractures of the pack, and I started getting all these…intrusive, violent thoughts, and my Spark, it started to feed the demon until my pesky human body couldn’t keep up trying to resist it, and I shut down entirely. I was in a coma for two weeks. But not-not before I killed Matt.”

The silence then is heavy, and Derek realizes after a beat that Stiles is waiting for something – judgment, the verdict – the shoe to drop. “Did he deserve it?”

“What?”

“Did Matt deserve it?” Derek asks, calm as ever, hand soothing circles into the meat of Stiles’ bare thigh.

His heartbeat skips at the suggestion of it, and Derek smiles at the sheer responsivity of him. He presses his lips against the crown of Stiles’ head, hears him sigh, before, “Yeah, he did.”

“Scott didn’t think so,” Stiles continues, burrowing his face into Derek’s chest. “He called me a murderer. Even though the police report said I’d acted in self-defense. Even though there were witnesses that said Matt had instigated it -”

“Scott didn’t believe it though.”

“No. No, he didn’t. He said, my dad’s the Sheriff – my dad could…make it look any way it had to so he wouldn’t lose me, and I – I couldn’t stand anyone suggesting anything like that about my dad.” Derek feels him blink, moisture flicking against skin, before Stiles concludes, “So, that’s how that happened. I haven’t…I haven’t seen Scott since. If he really lost that True Alpha thing without me, I doubt he’d let anyone know it. He didn’t really like the others. I don’t think he even really liked himself after so maybe-maybe the sacrifice got its payday after all.”

Then, surprisingly, Stiles smiles. “After all that though, it was like we really were home free. The coma, it turned out, was a way for my Spark to protect me while it dealt with the intruder hitching a ride with my body. I didn’t have any nightmares after that. For a while, I even thought the Spark left me too, just like it did my dad when my mom passed away.”

Almost musingly, he adds, “I had dreams then, different ones, not nightmares. Just – memories: of my parents, of when I was a kid, of when my dad was happy and didn’t have to worry about his idiot son who chooses to run with wolves.”

He shakes his head, amused this time. “But even without a Spark, I was already in the witchy-world of magic, so I turned to other means – potions and runes and – it was all very Harry Potter. The emissary I met with helped train me, found ways to cleanse me so I wouldn’t look like demon bait anymore. And I thought, _this is okay, this is my life now; werewolves and witches._ Which is exactly when Sirius showed up.”

“You thought he was a familiar,” Derek recalls.

“Yeah, in my defense, everyone thought so too,” Stiles informs, “I got told it was a sign of my magic stabilizing, and that the Spark _created_ it in order to act as protection. It was the purest form of Spark magic anyone’s ever seen, like the complete opposite of what the Nogistune had been. And I kept dreaming – about all the things I’d been through, all the things I wished I could change, how I could’ve been stronger, and Sirius – he heard of every word of it – and he, I guess, he became who I’d always wanted to be.”

“You wanted to be a wolf?”

“If it had meant the Nogistune couldn’t have gotten to me, I would’ve,” Stiles admits. “I mean, Allison almost went crazy like her grandfather, but Scott – Scott didn’t get anything but a demon-husk for a best friend and a murderous girlfriend for all of two minutes.”

Derek bites back the instinctive _it wasn’t your fault_ just as Stiles continues, “I like being human too much, but…the thought…sounded good, safe, an alternative path. And the form Sirius showed up in only encouraged it. You know, if I’m going to imagine a self that happens to make good choices and also happens to be strong enough to fight off a demon without succumbing in some way, I’d also have one of the rarest wolf shifts,” Stiles declares with a wiggle of his brows.

“Anyway,” he sighs, “that’s how it all…happened. I lost Scott, and I got Sirius. And as much as I miss my dumbass best friend, I’d never give up my kid, even if he’s really just a manifestation of my powers.”

Despite his levity, there’s an unbearable sadness to him, as little as Scott means to Stiles now, he’d clearly meant something to him before. A lost pack bond is still something to be mourned, no matter how pulled thin it had been.

Derek thinks of Cora then, her absence; her silence.

So, Derek tells him about her – the sister who’d run; the sister who’d fallen in love with Ennis, a seemingly packless Alpha, and wanted to run away with him – be his Beta – join his pack. Except – that wasn’t what he wanted.

Derek had been tracking Ennis across New York – this Alpha that was taking in homeless Omegas, and then killing them for the swell of power that came with a freshly made pack bond.

He was going to do the same to Cora, felt it in the fraying of their own bond, and Derek – Derek had used it to find Ennis, had used it to stop him and bring Cora home.

And he hadn’t seen her since.

“Is that why you didn’t want to be an Alpha?”

Derek considers, nods. “She was my kid sister – she knew me better than anyone else, besides my other sister, anyway. If she could decide to run off and became Ennis’ Beta, what did it say about me that she couldn’t stand the thought of being mine?”

“Well, the Betas want to be yours,” Stiles tells him, and with his arms rested on Derek’s chest, Stiles settles his chin there too and adds, “And so do I.”

“Stiles -”

“You didn’t give them the Pack Bite yet,” and Derek shouldn’t be surprised that Stiles had known what that was, “and I know since I’m not a wolf, I technically don’t need one, _but.”_

“Stiles, we barely…we haven’t even known each other that long,” he reminds weakly.

“Pack knows pack,” Stiles recites, just as Derek’s mother had when she’d seen him off. “And mates know mates.” With a twinkle in his eye to match, Stiles’ magic tangibly dropping all barriers of his scent unveiling something so delicious that Derek’s getting floaty just breathing it in that he almost misses Stiles’ tease, “Did you really think I’d let just anyone be Sirius’ Alpha?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue will be posted sometime this week, if not next. Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

Derek doesn’t like people.

It’s the least surprising thing about him.

Even with a pack of his own, a mate and a pup; Derek Hale and ‘liking people’ isn’t to be found in the same sentence.

Unfortunately, part of being a responsible Alpha, as Stiles often reminds, is providing for the pack – and while financially, the Betas take care of themselves just fine – the attention they’ve lacked from authority figures from the time before the Bite and after it means there’s still something to be done for their Alpha to do.

And if that means constant pack activities, individual Alpha-Beta familial bonding, _puppy piles_ , and the Betas practically moving into his house, so be it.

His mom teases that it’s the best part of being an Alpha – having to be needed and being able to fill that need.

Laura adds with a shit-eating grin, that it was irony itself that Derek – introverted as he was – could have a pack who’s main requirement from an Alpha was socialization, and as much of a hermit as Derek likes to think he is, he also handles it pretty well.

Especially as Danny maintains that Derek’s particular brand of standoffish has just endeared him to the rest of the assholes that make up Beacon Hills’ limited werewolf community, a fact that gets the Betas plus Boyd to snicker in agreement.

None of them push for anything he can’t give at a single time, and Derek can’t decide if the pack he’s found himself with was simply perfect for him, or if Stiles has something to do with it.

“No way, dude,” he scoffs, “you think these assholes would listen to me?” 

“Ash roll?” Sirius echoes with a curious head tilt to Erica’s coos, and Derek’s unimpressed look Stiles’ way.

“What – no, that’s just – no fair, Danny got to do it!” At Derek’s continued eyebrow twitch of displeasure, Stiles tries to backtrack, “Ah, no-no, little dude, don’t – it’s a bad word.”

Sirius' face scrunches, head still tilted in confusion before he repeats, “Bah?”

“Bad – it’s a bad -”

“Tah-tah’s bah,” the baby mutters, his brows furrowing with a glare that looks startlingly like Derek’s own which he then turns to Derek himself as if he has to answer for his father’s behavior.

Jackson snorts. “Good job, Stilinski, you got your own brat to turn on you.”

“It’s not fair,” Stiles complains, “you say shi-cra-uh…bad things around him and he never repeats it.”

“Probably because he’s still deciding whether he likes us or not,” Boyd says, lugging around a box of books. Contrary, however, to Boyd’s claims is Sirius’ own actions when he gets distracted by the mere presence of Boyd that he grins gummily and makes grabby hands for, “Boo, boo, boo!”

Graciously accepting his request, Boyd approaches for Sirius’ petting – the child version of scent marking – before Sirius leans back in Derek’s arms, satisfied and completely forgetting the conversation he’d been a part of.

“I resent that,” Danny interjects to Jackson’s adjournment, “We’re delightful, and your spawn worships us.”

Which Sirius clearly thinks is hilarious with the way he starts laughing.

While Boyd leaves the box on the table with a passing kiss to Erica, Isaac follows after him from the front door, lugging twice the number of boxes stacked high enough on top of each other that they can't even see his head as he asks, “What is all this anyway?”

“Wolf-approved literature,” Stiles replies, turning to Derek with a grin. “When I said we needed them to get the job done right, I didn’t think your mom would expedite shipping.”

Bouncing Sirius in his arms, Derek admits into the baby’s mess of dark hair, “Mom’s…excited. She knows how much I’ve been resisting starting a pack, and I think she wanted to make sure it got to be an official thing before anyone changed their minds.”

“You mean you, right?” Erica says with a lazy smirk. “We fought _faeries_ last week; you’re never getting rid of me, Alpha-my-Alpha.”

Derek rolls his eyes fondly. “You’ll change your mind once Jackson and I come to an agreement about the drills we need to do to prepare for next time.”

Jackson preens at the responsibility he’s been given, a response that is met with raspberries blown his way and then an actual book that Stiles none too gently distributes into his lap.

“Alright, kids, time to get educated on your wolfy histories. I expect an essay of no less than three thousand words and a presentation for the class,” Stiles informs in an excellent mock of a professor breaking in his newest group of freshmen. “You will be graded.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit."

“Buzz it,” Sirius agrees with a nod, an assessment that gets glares thrown Isaac's way from Stiles and Derek while the rest of the Betas and Danny snicker.

“Just for that, six thousand words,” Stiles scolds, and when they open their mouths to object as a disjointed unit, he decrees, “I’m the Alpha now.”

Everyone’s eyes simultaneous flicker over his shoulder to Derek behind him, to Stiles’ grumble, and though he gives Derek a half-hearted glare, Sirius’ verdict is without argument, with a firm pat to Derek’s cheek, he states, “Ah-pah.”

Solemnly, Isaac agrees, “You heard the kid. Derek’s the Alpha now.”

Humming over Stiles continued complaints, Derek orders as he walks out, “We’ll do the presentations when we get back from the store.”

“No!”

“Der, c’mon,” Erica whines.

“I’m going out to get food for us while other people could still be around,” Derek tells them widening his eyes dramatically. “I deserve to be rewarded. I'm going out in public _for you,_ I deserve entertainment when I come home in the form of your presentations.”

“Why can’t we just watch movies on a Friday night? Like a normal family?” Danny complains.

“Our Alpha is a werewolf, our pack-mother is a witch-spark, the baby is a magical manifestation, your boyfriend and his adopted siblings are wolves, and you’re magic too,” Boyd reminds which just devolves into further arguments over whether they’d technically be considered pack-siblings and whether dating within the pack is considered incestuous.

Stiles, Derek, and Sirius leave the house to the sound of their good-natured arguments and requests for someone to do the damn work so everyone else can copy it, and Derek pretends he isn’t infinitely amused.

-

-

-

Despite the increased amount of social interaction Derek’s been exposed to as a result of his new pack, being out in public continues to be a trial to bear especially with Stiles around.

Not only has it remained hot gossip that Stiles had come home with a child, but after getting caught making out in the candy aisle while Isaac and Jackson raced around the grocery store with Sirius in the cart, it felt like the whole town was trying to figure out how it happened.

Not that they’d have any luck.

Derek couldn’t explain it either, only that it had started at this grocery store a month ago.

“Pup,” he berates quietly at Sirius’ chomping – testing out his fangs on the stuffed wolf the Sheriff had gotten him as a gag, and also who Sirius can’t seem to live without ever since his grandfather had put it in his arms.

With large brown eyes turned at Derek, innocence personified even with sharp teeth still embedded into the fur of his stuffed toy, Stiles snickers as Derek physically softens.

“You’re so easy,” he teases, and though Derek growls playfully, Stiles doesn’t buy it for a second despite the fact that Derek can be really convincing when he tries. Being an Alpha may be more about creating and maintaining a family unit, but it doesn't mean Derek has to lose his grumpy reputation entirely.

"Hey," Stiles says, stretching the word as he grabs a pack of pasta shells on the shelf. "Remember this?" 

It takes Derek a second for his memory to be jogged, helped mostly by the way Sirius bounces in his arms like the smartest kid in the world at the immediate recognition to how it all started; lamenting what to grab and make for dinner before the store closed - preparing for another night alone. A month later, he's got Stiles and a baby and pack waiting for him back home, and dinner still needs to be made. It makes him roll his eyes fondly, even as he adds, "Never did get to have the pasta I wanted for dinner."

Stiles brightens. "Well, we'll just have to fix that won't we?" Adding a bag to the cart, he turns to poke at Sirius' cheeks to the baby's delight, teasing, "How do you feel about mac and cheese tonight, my little wizard? Papa's gonna make it just for us, isn't he - isn't he?" 

"Hold on, I never said I wanted to be the one to make it," Derek says, managing to look unimpressed even as the pair of them look up at him with dual expressions of _you can't fool us,_ with Sirius adding on with grabby hands, "Ah-pah want, ah-pah!"

Snorting, Derek rubs Sirius' tummy, informing Stiles, "That's not fair you know." 

"I don't know what you're talking about." 

"You can't just use your kid to get your way." 

Stiles hums, "Yeah," thoughtfully before throwing a wink his way, "but it works, doesn't it?"

Derek rolls his eyes but doesn't disagree, outstretching his hand to empty the shelf of pasta into the cart, and saying, to Stiles' surprised expression, "What? I've got a pack to feed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END. 
> 
> I didn't plan this fic very far at all since extending it had been a surprise on its own, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. 
> 
> Thanks for joining me!

**Author's Note:**

> So, despite only recently making a collection of [only human](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1402423) Sterek AUs, I ended up writing a werewolf/witch Sterek fic instead. Apparently, my brain houses revolts, and I'm nothing but a confused bard in the crowd.
> 
> Also, because I like order amongst my chaos, welcome to the new collection: "House of Mine" for all the werewolf/probably-magic Sterek fics.
> 
> Come yell at me on my [tumblr](https://everything-withered.tumblr.com)


End file.
